


My Normal Isn't Normal

by Ebonyheart



Series: MNIN [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (he's kinda cured but eh), Angst with a Happy Ending, Assume nothing, Bipolar Disorder, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, OCD, OCD!Harry, PTSD!Harry, PTSD!Sirius, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Seriously I promise this will end well, The beginning and middle will be rough though, a touch of humor, bipolar!harry, heed the tags people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebonyheart/pseuds/Ebonyheart
Summary: If my normal isn't normal, how am I supposed to know?
  Harry Potter's thoughts have always been like an uneven see-saw but, when his life was constantly unstable, it was perfectly understandable. After all, extreme situations merit extreme reactions, right?  However, when he still teeters back and forth after Voldie’s death, people start to notice that there’s an issue. What happens when Harry finds out that no one can save him from the person that wants to hurt him most? It seems that the prophecy forgot to mention that killing the world's greatest enemy would truly unleash his own.And, perhaps, his greatest ally too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **READ TO PREVENT DISAPPOINTMENT**  
>  Okay, so this right here is my baby. My sweet, cannot be worked on under normal circumstances, baby. I have to be in the right head space to write this safely since I suffer from two of the conditions that Harry has, as well as a third one of my own so I will warn you that, once I run out of pre-written chapters, updates will be very sporadic, but I will make them fucking worth it. Please feel free to comment, so long as you treat the topics I cover with respect.

"Harry?" Remus called through the door, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "Cub, I'm going to have to come in if you don't answer." The sound of a muffled swear, followed by footsteps and the opening of a closet door, revealed that Harry was in his room, and probably still in his pajamas. Fabric continued to rustle until the door was opened by a slightly disheveled Harry. If the guilty smile on his face was anything to go by, Remus knew that he was at least partially aware of why he'd come to talk. After motioning for Harry to follow, he lead the way to the sitting room, where Sirius was already fidgeting in his seat. When he looked up, Harry wouldn't meet his eyes, as guilt for making them worry quickly morphed into shame.

"Hey pup, how are you doing?" Sirius asked, trying to at least get a response.

"Fine Siri, I was reading in my room and just didn't even notice the time. Sorry for making you both worry, I really should get out more," Harry said with an apologetic smile.

"Cub, it's fine to read, but are you sure you're alright? I didn't see you at all today, and it's almost three in the afternoon. Did you even grab something to eat?" Remus saw the way the his face faltered for a moment at his questions before it turned sheepish as Harry looked away.

“I had breakfast around nine, but I'm not really hungry for lunch," was the rushed reply. Both men looked at each other, wanting to believe him, but knowing that something was wrong with that statement.

"You need to eat pup, it’s not healthy to skip meals. Just something small, alright? KREACHER!" Sirius bellowed, and the disgruntled house elf arrived with a sharp crack.

"What does Kreacher's awful master want now? Kreacher is busy tending to Mistress' portrait!"

"To give you clothes," he dead panned, "But right now, I want you to go grab a quick lunch for Harry. Merlin knows he barely took a bite from his toast this morning." At that, Kreacher’s face scrunched up in what could pass for a contemplative, or constipated, look. "What's wrong?" Sirius asked, curious as to why the usually derisive elf looked confused. As they spoke, Remus noticed that Harry was basically trying to stupefy Kreacher with his eyes.

"Kreacher did not make stupid master's awful godson toast," Kreacher said.

"Well what did you make him?" Remus asked, eyes focused on Harry, who was turned to the door as if getting ready to bolt.

"Kreacher didn't make stupid master's awful godson anything, because Kreacher was never called! Kreacher was told never to come unless called, and Kreacher has not been called in days!" screeched the, now irritated, house elf. At this, Harry quickly rose and tried to sprint for the door. All those years of 'Harry Hunting' gave him the speed to out strip almost anyone but, sadly for him, Sirius had been paying more attention than he thought and snagged him by the arm before he could get past. Grey looked into green, and after a moment, Harry slumped back into his chair in defeat.

"Kreacher, do you mean to say that the only time you've seen Harry is when serving dinner?" Remus was loathe to fully confirm his worries, but things couldn’t continue the way they were.

"Yes! Kreacher is telling stupid Master's annoying consort that Kreacher is not seeing his awful godson unless at dinner!"

"Remus isn't the consort," Harry muttered.

"HARRY!" Sirius squeaked, suddenly resembling a very ripe tomato.

"What?" Harry did his best to look innocent. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, although a quick silencing charm would be nice," he made a face, "I don't really need to hear how happily married you two are." A sputtering Sirius was a sight to see, and Remus, having joined the tomato club, was only doing slightly better. Kreacher chose this moment to leave with a resounding crack, thus dragging the adults out of their embarrassed silence.

"Alright, point taken. Silencing charms are now a requirement, but that is not getting you out of this conversation young man." Remus, having finally tamed his blush, looked directly at the fidgeting teenager. "He's right Harry. We want to help, but you need to talk for us to do that. I know there's a reason, so can you tell us, please?" Let it be said that this was one of the rare moments where Sirius was true to his name.

"It's nothing really, I just don't feel hungry during the day," Harry said.

"Funny, considering that I can hear your stomach from here," Remus said disapprovingly. Harry had the decency to look abashed at being caught in his lie, but was no more forthcoming than before. Seeing that they were still getting nowhere, Remus reached out and gently turned Harry's head until he had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

"Cub, I don't like being lied to any more than you do. That being said, I know that this has to be hard for you, so I'm trying to be understanding. Could you please tell us why you've been skipping meals? I promise not to be angry, no matter what, and we both know that Sirius couldn't so much as try to get upset with you." Seeing his godfather nod in agreement made Harry feel slightly less agitated, but he also knew that the truth could result in extenuating circumstances. If they knew exactly why he was so anxious about certain things, they were guaranteed to lose their tempers, and he wasn't sure that he could cope without resorting to drastic measures. Just thinking about it made him fall into his old habit of breathing so softly that no one else could hear him.

From the ripe age of three, Vernon had come up with several creative punishments for when Harry was 'disturbing the family with his freakish presence' by being too loud. Considering that being forced to drink copious amounts of salt water before being locked overnight in the cupboard was the best case scenario, it's no wonder he quickly mastered this skill. Freaks were burdens that were lucky to be given anything, so it was rude and ungrateful of him to remind them that they had to tolerate his presence in the first place. Feeling someone shake him, Harry reacted on instinct and went perfectly still, remembering to keep his breathing near silent. The last thing he needed was to make Vernon think that he would react more than usual, because that would excite him more and possibly change punishment to 'play time'.

"Harry?!" Said teenager knew to never ignore someone demanding his attention, and so replied with a quick 'Yes sir.' As another hand pulled him into a hug, The body holding him felt different from his Uncle, for one, there was no gelatinous mass threatening to suffocate him while hands started to explore, but the person holding him was still undeniably male. This wouldn't be the first time that someone else was allowed to 'play,' and, while it was always worse after months of being safe, at least with most of his Uncle’s friends, he'd held some small hope that he could escape if they got too rough. This man was far too strong though, his arms were steel bands wrapped around him just this side of too tight, and Harry could feel the tension building in his limbs. Try as he might to control it, Harry's breathing sped up. He fell into a pattern of holding his breath between short bouts of hyperventilation as the roaring in his ears told him that his heart was beating against its cage as furiously as Hedwig would to escape her own. Harry could hear the anxiety in the man's voice, probably worried that he'd broken Vernon's favorite 'toy', which he knew would cost extra. He knew his Uncle liked sharing him, and loved selling him, but only if he was still kept in enough pieces to satisfy him when the other party was done. A hysterical giggle almost escaped at the thought that the only time any of his so-called 'family' gave two bloody shits about him was when he wasn't able to function as his Uncle’s glory hole. Wanting to help, Sirius pulled Harry onto his lap and started rubbing circles on his back, not realizing that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. No matter how well adjusted he was to the abysmal conditions he had to endure, between the lack of nutrients, sleep and oxygen, Harry’s body just didn't have enough energy to maintain an extreme stress response for any length of time. With his eyes welded shut, he couldn't see the darkness creeping around his vision, but it was welcomed all the same. Before it claimed him, Harry wondered what the man holding him would do while he was unconscious. He was trying to decide whether there was a chance that he'd just let him sleep when he finally passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Read to prevent disappointment (and maybe get ahead of everyone else)**  
>  Okay, so I'm a total softy who can't wait a week to post a new chapter. With that being said, you will actually have to wait a while for the next one, because it's still being edited, or you can go to fanfiction.net to read the unedited chapters. It's under the same name as here, so just type that in the search bar and have fun.

When Harry cracked his eye open, he instantly regretted it. Opening your eyes in a bright room is a bad, bad idea. Wait... bright room?! Harry bolted upright so quickly that he nearly fell out of the bed he was laying in, which was another sign that something had changed, and probably not for the better. If they hadn't thrown him back in the cupboard, then where was he?! He hadn't done what he was supposed to because he blacked out, but that usually resulted in him getting beaten until he woke back up, not being left in a bed! He started hyperventilating as quietly as he could, because this shouldn't be happening, unless... Did Vernon finally get tired of him and sell him to someone else? A hysterical giggle bubbled up before Harry could contain it, and his mind seemed to dissolve into almost keening laughter as tears painted his cheeks. He'd finally gotten away, in however many pieces, and was being treated like another human being, and all that it took was a bit of fainting! Oh the irony! Harry had forced himself to almost never pass out until they were done with him because his Uncle had threatened to sell him to someone even worse, but his new 'owner' treated him better than everyone at Hogwarts. At the thought of his false-haven, his laughter took on a derisive and bitter quality.

 

At first, Hogwarts felt like a safe pace, somewhere that he could escape his 'family's' tender mercies and actually be happy. Bloody hell, there was even a class that was supposed to teach him to defend himself! The eleven-year-old had stared in wide eyed wonder at the new world that stood before him until he learned a few home truths about wizarding culture. Much like the American sport of baseball, there were three strikes before Harry realized he was just as bad off there as he was with the Durseleys. Strike one: Harry discovered that this world wanted more from him than he could, or should, ever give. He was forced onto the path of the hero/scapegoat and was basically told, 'either walk this road or die'. Strike two: Snape proved that others could hate him for his ancestry just as much as his relatives. Despite it being the dungeon bat’s fault that he was an orphan, because the git, who was such a kissass that he practically rimming Voldie, told him the most damning part of the merlin forsaken prophecy, the sins of the father still damned Harry to be constantly ridiculed because he looked like someone he couldn’t even remember. Sure, James was an ass that Snape wouldn’t even kiss with rubber lips but, considering the fact that he caused the other man’s demise, as well of the death of his only friend ever, it was just plain wrong to hold that against Harry, who wasn’t even raised by the jerk! Finally, even if faith couldn't bend before it was broken, with strike three, Harry's was fucking obliterated. When he learned that he couldn't use magic over the summer, or even stay at the castle to escape, the cruelty of it all was the last straw. It was a master stroke that left Vernon applauding the wizarding world, because someone had finally managed to beat the light out of Harry's eyes with the knowledge that he had the power to save himself but was unable to use it, lest he be stripped of it and left in hell incarnate. Part of him would always hate Dobby for exposing the fact that he’d been lying about his ability to use magic to the Dursleys, but then the little house elf had no idea that the retribution for it would be both swift and terrible. How he’d ever held himself together for those last few days of summer was a mystery he wasn’t keen to revisit.

 

The sound of someone rushing up the steps broke Harry out of his painful trip down memory lane. Having already accepted that there was probably no way to escape without magic, he sat on the edge of the bed as calmly as he could pretend to be. So far, this new person hadn't been horrible but, then again, one of Vernon's favorite things to do when he was young was pretend to be kind so that the inevitable cruelty burned twice as fiercely. As the doorknob turned, he was about to shut down so that he would be properly numbed before the pain that was sure to follow, when the door opened to reveal a set of twin blurs that were frighteningly familiar. At the cries of 'pup' and 'cub', Harry's eyes widened in dawning horror as three things clicked simultaneously: 1.) He was at Grimauld place with his godfathers, 2.) he'd gotten caught up in a memory and panicked right in front of them, and 3.) he had no way of explaining what the hell happened. At that moment, Harry began to seriously question if he was either Hitler or Stalin in his past life because, if the universe was even remotely fair, he'd had to have done something truly evil his last time around to piss off karma this badly.


End file.
